Still Rising
If sights would help us live, we’d see worlds
We’d take those strange steps on salty lands Conquering kings and living out lives We would love the days far from our own We’d warm together on nights so cold But we are not people of travel We won’t heal from ancient battlefields Our wounds need more than ghosts of the Greeks We burnt to ashes our withered world And now we’ll die, the smoke still rising Leave a tip for this poet? RunWrite has chosen to ask for tips. Any donation is made directly to this poet, and is greatly appreciated.https://www.paypal.me/runwrite
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